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“I heard the telephone tootling out in the hall and rose to attend it. “Bertram Wooster’s residence,” I said, having connected with the instrument. “Wooster in person at this end. Oh, hullo,” I added, for the voice that boomed over the wire was that of Mrs. Thomas Portalington Travers of Brinkley Court, Market Snodsbury, near Droitwich — or, putting it another way, my good and deserving Aunt Dahlia. “A very hearty pip-pip to you, old ancestor,” I said, well pleased, for she is a woman with whom it is always a privilege to chew the fat. “And a rousing toodle-oo to you, you young blot on the landscape,” she replied cordially.” — P.G. Wodehouse
I heard the telephone tootling out in the hall and rose to attend it.
“Bertram Wooster’s residence,” I said, having connected with the instrument. “Wooster in person at this end. Oh, hullo,” I added, for the voice that boomed over the wire was that of Mrs. Thomas Portalington Travers of Brinkley Court, Market Snodsbury, near Droitwich — or, putting it another way, my good and deserving Aunt Dahlia. “A very hearty pip-pip to you, old ancestor,” I said, well pleased, for she is a woman with whom it is always a privilege to chew the fat.
“And a rousing toodle-oo to you, you young blot on the landscape,” she replied cordially.